From a distance, Leon could be seen sprinting toward the door with Brandon slung across his back. Liam, standing by the entrance, scratched his head in confusion, not sure what was happening.
As Leon approached and hurriedly explained his mission, everything changed. Liam's eyes flared with sudden intensity, turning red with emotion.
"You... you actually remember the emblem on that man?" Liam asked, his voice thick with disbelief.
His mind raced back to that chaotic day. In the heat of the skirmish with the mercenaries, Liam had fought desperately, but in the end, he'd been overpowered and knocked out cold. The image of the man who had bought his sister was a blur, lost in the violence and confusion. He had tried for years to recall even the smallest detail, but nothing had come to him. And now, Leon was offering him a sliver of hope.
Liam's breath quickened as the thought of finally finding his sister consumed him. He didn't waste a second. He spun on his heel, threw the door open, and rushed inside, followed closely by Leon and Brandon.
Inside, the room was dimly lit, and on the floor lay a broad-shouldered man, stripped down to his underclothes, wrists and ankles bound tightly. A rag stuffed in his mouth muffled any attempts at speech. The captive's eyes fluttered open at the sound of the door creaking, his gaze darting to the figures entering the room.
As soon as the prisoner spotted Leon, his heart sank. Leon's armor gleamed under the dim light, a stark reminder of the lordly power he now held. It was unmistakable; Leon was wearing the very armor granted to him as a lord. The realization hit the captive like a punch to the gut. His lord was dead, and now, his own fate seemed sealed.
Leon's expression remained unreadable as he motioned for Liam to grab a chair. Gently, he helped Brandon sit down, taking care not to worsen his injuries. Though Leon was fluent in the noble tongue of the Kantadari knights, he knew this interrogation needed precision, and he didn't want anything lost in translation. Brandon, being a native speaker of Feru, would do the questioning directly.
Liam didn't hesitate. He strode over, yanked the captive up from the floor, and stood him on his feet. Meanwhile, Leon crouched down and retrieved a piece of charcoal from his pocket; borrowed from the kitchen. Kneeling, he began sketching on the dusty floor. The emblem. His mind worked carefully, recalling every detail, and soon enough, the image of a bird with outstretched wings emerged, its shape as vivid as the day he'd seen it.
The captured knight, Mamuel, stared down at the drawing, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He couldn't understand what Leon was doing, but his gut told him this wasn't good. Brandon, now seated comfortably, leaned forward and spoke.
"Look at the symbol on the ground," Brandon said in Feru, his voice calm but firm. "The bird, with a blue background and white wings. You know what family it belongs to, don't you? Where in Kantadar are they based?"
Liam ripped the rag from Mamuel's mouth, eager for an answer. Mamuel flexed his jaw, working through the stiffness from being gagged for so long. His eyes flicked from the emblem on the ground back up to Brandon, a mocking smirk curling at the corners of his mouth.
"Even if I did know," he spat, his voice laced with defiance, "why would I tell you?"
Brandon didn't blink. He leaned in closer, keeping his tone steady. "So, you don't deny knowing?"
Mamuel's smirk faded, replaced by tight lips and silence. He had said too much already. He clamped his mouth shut, refusing to offer any more.
Liam, standing nearby, clenched his fists. Though he couldn't understand the conversation, the smugness on Mamuel's face and his refusal to cooperate were all Liam needed to see. Rage surged through him. In an instant, he raised his armored fist and slammed it into Mamuel's face. The blow landed with a sickening crack, bruising the knight's cheek and sending a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.
Mamuel's head snapped to the side from the force of the punch, but when he straightened, his expression was unnervingly calm. Blood dripped from his lips, yet a smile: a cold, unsettling smile, crept across his face.
Speaking in the same Feru tongue, Mamuel taunted, "Is that all you've got? You can't even hurt me properly, and you think you can make me talk? Do whatever you like. Torture me if you must, but spare me the crude methods. If you're going to make this painful, at least bring a knife."
The room fell silent. The weight of Mamuel's challenge hung in the air, and for a moment, no one moved. Liam's fist hovered, trembling with anger, while Leon and Brandon exchanged a quick glance, their next move uncertain.
Mamuel glared at the group, his eyes filled with contempt. He spoke slowly, each word dripping with disdain. "Go ahead. Pick your poison; cut off my fingers, hack off my limbs, gouge out my eyes, or carve off my nose. You can even castrate me if you like. Do you really think that'll get me to say a single word?"
He had switched to Feru, and for the first time, Liam fully understood the knight's taunt. His blood boiled. He clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles whitening as the knight's words echoed in his mind.
"You think I don't dare?" Liam spat, his voice trembling with rage.
Mamuel didn't flinch. He simply raised an eyebrow and replied with icy indifference, "Do as you wish. It makes no difference to me."
This was a man who had fought his way through battlefields, survived the horrors of war, and crawled out from beneath heaps of corpses. Physical pain meant little to him, and the threat of torture even less. His body had already endured more than most could imagine.
Brandon, standing nearby, frowned as he spoke softly in Uriah. "Are you asking for death?"
Mamuel snorted at the question. "Of course not."
"But you're amateurs," Mamuel continued, his tone sharp and condescending. "Do you think I'm just going to give in because you threaten me? If you want answers, you'll have to offer me something worthwhile, something that'll make me 'want' to talk."
Brandon's eyes narrowed. "What are your conditions, then?"
"Release me," Mamuel answered without hesitation, his voice calm and clear.
Brandon's face remained blank, though his mind raced. "So you 'are' afraid of dying, after all?" he asked, probing for weakness.
Mamuel chuckled, his lips curling into a faint smile. "Afraid? No. I've faced death more times than I can count. But if there's a chance I can walk away from this alive, why not take it?"
Brandon was silent for a moment, considering the situation. Finally, he offered, "Fine. Tell me which noble family that emblem belongs to, and I'll let you go."
Mamuel's laughter echoed through the room, deep and mocking. "Do you think I'm a child? You think I'll believe you just because you say so? Your people were ready to rip me apart yesterday. What makes you think I'll trust you not to go back on your word the moment I give you what you want?"
Brandon's frown deepened. "Then why ask for release if you know it's not possible?"
Mamuel shrugged, still unfazed. "Because it doesn't matter to me. 'You' are the ones who need answers. I'm not begging for my life. It's 'your' problem to figure out how to make me talk."
Brandon's mind worked quickly. He decided to bluff, hoping to break through Mamuel's resolve. "What if I promise you an easier death? Or even a few days of comfort before the inevitable? It's just a family crest, after all. Hardly a state secret. If I wanted, I could ask a few more Kantadari or pay a herald to get the same answer. It might take some effort, but I'll get it eventually."
Mamuel remained stone-faced. "Then go ahead. It's all the same to me. Dead is dead, whether you get your answers from me or someone else. But make no mistake, saying yes or no, answering your questions or staying silent, it's a dead end either way. What reason do I have to help you?"
Brandon felt a knot of frustration tightening in his chest. Mamuel's indifference to both threats and bargains was throwing them off balance. What was left to do if the man wouldn't respond to reason or fear?
He exchanged a glance with Liam and then tugged at his arm, signaling him to step outside for a moment. Liam's face was flushed with anger, but he understood Brandon's need to regroup. They couldn't afford to make rash decisions.
The three men left the room, the door creaking shut behind them as Mamuel's indifferent gaze followed them out. Once they were outside, Brandon exhaled heavily and translated the knight's attitude to his companions.
"We're not dealing with a regular prisoner here. Mamuel's too hardened, too used to pain and threats. Torture might not break him, and he's not convinced by any promises of release. If we push him too hard, he might decide to die without saying a word. We need another angle."
Liam, still seething, punched the air in frustration. "So what now? We just let him sit there, mocking us?"
Brandon rubbed his temple, thinking hard. The situation had shifted, and they would need more than brute force or threats to get what they wanted from this knight.
Liam's fury boiled over, his face red with rage. He clenched his fists and spat out, "Fine! I'll head to the blacksmith, grab a pair of pliers, and crush his damn dick. Let's see how tough he is when he's choking on his own—"
Without finishing his sentence, Liam turned, driven by the desperation to find his sister, determined to follow through on his threat.
Leon, seeing the impulsive boy about to make a reckless move, quickly grabbed Liam by the arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Hold on!" Leon said firmly, his voice calm but commanding. "He's not in a rush, so why are you? The last thing we need is to ruin our best chance at getting answers."
Liam hesitated, his chest heaving with frustration, but Leon's steady hand kept him from storming off. Taking a deep breath, Liam forced himself to calm down, though his fists remained clenched. "Then what do you suggest, Leon? You have a plan to make him talk?"
Leon gave a half-smile, his answer surprising both Liam and Brandon. "I say we let him go."
Liam's eyes widened in disbelief. "What? Let him go?"
Leon nodded, raising a hand to calm Liam's shock. "Not us, of course. We wouldn't be the ones to release him." Leon's voice was measured, as though he had already thought it through. "Think about it; he may be an insufferable bastard, but he hasn't spilled any blood directly tied to us. The ones who truly want him dead are the villagers, right? Our focus should be on finding your sister, not on him."
Brandon, furrowing his brow, asked skeptically, "But how would you convince the villagers to let him live? They'll want his head."
Leon's eyes gleamed with a clever idea. "That's just it; we don't need to convince them. He will. If he's desperate enough to save his own neck, he'll beg the villagers for mercy. Offer them a ransom. Let him negotiate his own way out."
Brandon's eyes lit up with understanding. "Ah, so you mean he'd strike a deal with the villagers? A ransom for his life in exchange for letting him walk free?"
Leon nodded. "Exactly. These villagers... they've lost everything. If he can offer them enough compensation, they might choose gold over vengeance. And remember, according to what Liam heard from Olivia, this knight wasn't even involved in the massacre. He was bedridden from an injury when it happened. For all we know, the villagers might not have anyone with a direct blood feud against him."
Liam crossed his arms, thinking over the plan, but he couldn't deny the logic. Leon pressed on, "We don't interfere with their decision. We simply step back and let the villagers decide whether he lives or dies. If he believes the decision is out of our hands, he'll know our promise is real. After all, if we kill him later, the villagers won't see a single coin of that ransom."
Brandon, now fully convinced, nodded in agreement. "It's a good plan. Let's speak to Olivia and let the villagers choose his fate."
The three of them exchanged quick glances, the plan settled, and made their way back to the cell. When they returned, the atmosphere was tense but calculated. Brandon stood before Mamuel, arms crossed, and calmly laid out the offer.
Mamuel's hardened demeanor softened at the mention of a potential ransom. He wasn't a fool; he knew that if he could offer the villagers a sizable payout, they might spare him. His life might still be hanging by a thread, but it was better than nothing.
Just as Brandon had anticipated, Mamuel realized that divulging the identity behind the crest was a small price to pay for survival. And even if he didn't reveal it now, they could eventually get the information from another noble; time was the only difference. Knowing this, Mamuel finally relented.
As Leon had predicted, in the face of death, even a knight as tough as Mamuel could be reasoned with.
The tension in the room was palpable. The longer it took to find Liam's sister, the less likely it was that she was still alive. Every minute felt like an hour, and the anxiety weighed heavily on the three men.
But Mamuel, the captured knight, remained blissfully unaware of their desperation. He had no clue about Liam's personal stakes in the matter. In Mamuel's mind, the emblem in question must represent a family with some kind of blood feud against these three young men. If he could trade his life for such a simple piece of information, he saw no reason to hold back.
"Fine," Mamuel said coolly, leaning back as much as his restraints allowed. "Get someone to negotiate the ransom. Once the deal is made, I'll tell you which family that emblem belongs to."
Leon wasted no time. The moment they left the cell, he dashed off to find Olivia. Right now, she was the only leader left in Selva village, aside from the old blacksmith, who was bedridden and unable to help.
Leon found her organizing a small group of survivors to clean up the ruins of the village. Her golden hair, though dirty from the recent chaos, still shone under the sunlight as she directed the efforts with an air of quiet determination. When Leon told her about the knight's offer of ransom in exchange for his life, Olivia paused. Her face was unreadable, but she didn't agree immediately.
"We'll have to gather everyone," she finally said, her voice firm but somber. "This decision isn't mine alone."
Before long, all of the surviving women and children of the village had gathered in front of the cell. Only the old blacksmith, too weak to leave his bed, was absent. As Liam pushed Mamuel into the crowd, Leon could feel the villagers' anger simmering just below the surface. Many had lost loved ones in the recent attack, and the sight of the man responsible; whether directly or indirectly, fueled their hatred.
But when Mamuel made his offer, the crowd's fury began to waver. His voice, cold and calculating, cut through the tension like a blade.
"One thousand gold coins," he said, his eyes scanning the faces of the survivors. "Not Kantadar currency, but the golden crowns of Orland."
The crowd fell silent. Leon could feel the shift. One thousand gold crowns; a fortune beyond the wildest dreams of anyone in Selva village. There were only sixty-three households in the entire village, and if they divided the ransom equally, each family, whether present or absent; would receive a sum that would take an ordinary farmer decades to save through hard labor and frugal living.
The silence hung heavy in the air as the survivors weighed their options. The anger that had fueled them moments ago began to dissolve, melting faster than snow in the first days of spring. Brandon and Liam stood on the sidelines, watching this painful transformation unfold, their hearts heavy with a mixture of disgust and understanding. It was like witnessing some cruel social experiment, watching these villagers; many of whom had suffered unimaginable losses, contemplate trading justice for survival.
In the end, the only ones who still clung to their hatred were the youngest children, their innocent eyes filled with fury that hadn't yet been tempered by the harsh realities of the world. They were too young to understand the crushing weight of survival, too young to know the compromises that adults make when faced with impossible choices.
Liam muttered to himself, his voice low and bitter, "Even if you gave me a mountain of gold, I wouldn't forgive the man who destroyed my family."
Though the ransom would bring them closer to finding his sister's whereabouts, Liam couldn't help but feel a deep, inexplicable sense of frustration. The villagers' willingness to forsake revenge in exchange for money gnawed at him. Could he really blame them? He wasn't blind to their suffering. These were people who had endured tremendous hardship, and they needed something anything; to survive. He understood that, but it didn't make it any easier to accept.
Back in the dimly lit prison cell, Mamuel finally broke his silence. His eyes flicked between the three men as he spoke. "The white bird you drew? That's the emblem of the Falcon family, from Western Port. But you also drew a checkered pattern beneath it, which means it belongs to a lesser knight sworn to the Falcon family."
The room fell silent. The information hung in the air like a key, unlocking the door to Liam's search for his sister. But the boy's heart remained heavy, the weight of their choices pressing down on him like a stone.